I Am Leonardo
by Donny's Boy
Summary: The Foot surround us, and my brother lies unconscious at my feet.  There is no room for failure.  Reaching down, I pick up the katana.  I am Leonardo.


"I Am Leonardo"

By Donny's Boy

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Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the plot relating to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and I am making no money from this story. I mean no harm.

Warnings: Violence, with moderate blood and gore, and some mature language.

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Close. The Foot are too damned close. I slink into the dark alleyway behind me, panting hard. Already my shoulder is protesting mightily at its mistreatment—this is the fifth time, so far, that it's been dislocated and popped back into place—and my entire body trembles with exhaustion and fear. Kneeling down, a bit stiffly, I glance over to my brother, who's barely visible in the shadows.

Damn. Still unconscious.

I grit my teeth and listen. Our enemies, trained diligently to remain silent at all times, creep towards us with only the slightest sounds betraying them—a light splash of a foot hitting a puddle, the soft whistle of a shuriken cutting through the still night air. Luckily, I've also been diligently trained, to listen and to hear what isn't meant to be heard.

They're getting even closer.

Frowning, I sneak another glance at my brother. This is a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. It seems so unreal that my brother, my strong brother, is lying unconscious and wounded at my feet. I'm scared of moving him, when I have no idea just how bad his injuries are. I could cause internal bleeding, could snap his spinal cord, could accidentally—no. No, I can't think about all that now, there's no time. I've got to _act_.

While trying desperately to think of a way out for both of us, I reach forward and lightly run my hand along my brother's unmasked face. He would look peaceful, even childlike, if it weren't for all the bruises and blood. My hand continues downward, and I press my fingers against his neck. Relaxing a bit, I let out a breath I hadn't even known I'd been holding in. His pulse is still steady. Not as strong as usual, but definitely still there.

God, I wish Donny was here. Don would know what to do.

I lift my hand, now smeared with my brother's blood. Even in the dim light I can see the dark, thick liquid trickle down my wrist, down my arm. And as I sit crouching in our hiding place, looking at his blood, I suddenly feel a hot surge of determination. My brother is bleeding. My _brother_. I'll protect him. I have to.

Glancing down, I pick up the narrow strip of blue cloth that lies at my feet. I tie the mask around my eyes, making sure to pull tight on the knot, and then my hand reaches for the leather chest-straps that sheathe twin katana.

The straps chafe against the cuts and scratches that run down my plastron, but there's nothing to do about it. Not right now, anyways. Gingerly I slide the swords from their place on my back and feel the weight of each one in my hands. They're strangely heavy. But also solid, in a reassuring way, much like my brother usually is. Lastly, after rolling my throbbing shoulder to loosen it up, I crouch down into a ready position.

Closer.

Like a coiled snake I wait in the dark …

Still closer.

… then I lunge.

My swords flash quickly. I've got the element of surprise, and right now that's about all I've got. So I need to make the most of it. Two ninjas go down immediately, but a third manages to nick me—and, dammit, of _course_ it's my bad shoulder he slices. It takes all my concentration not to drop the swords. Falling to one knee, wincing, I go into an immediate roll to get away. Then I swing both arms backwards, feeling a jolt of pain as the momentum of my blades slams to a stop as metal meets flesh.

Sparing a look over my shoulder, I see the ninja who scratched me just as he hits the ground like a sack of potatoes. I straighten up and quickly scan the alley for more ninjas. Ah, right there. The fire escape. Five of 'em. I tilt my swords forward, so that the scant light from the street reflects off the blades, reflects off the fresh blood. I'm rewarded when the newcomers notice the blood and waver, just a moment, in their attack.

They're afraid of me.

Which is good. They _should_ be.

There isn't time for delay or showboating, so I get right down to it. With a low snarl, I take a running jump at a nearby wall, flipping up to the fire escape, and the moment I land, I knock out one ninja with the hilt of my katana. Down to four. A swift roundhouse sends the remaining enemies flying backwards and gives me a bit more room to fight. One hits the ladder, hard, and as he pauses to catch his breath, I whip out my good arm—with a quick flick of the wrist, I slit the man's throat clean open. Down to three.

By now, the other three have recovered and are ganging up on me, trying to fence me in on all sides. I back-flip onto the cold steel ladder, just out of reach, then leap forward while pushing off the ladder with all my might. I land right behind two of them. Gripping my swords tightly, one for each man, I stab hard and fast.

Down to one. I turn to the final ninja and meet his gaze through the dark. His eyes, gleaming like a cat's, are what betray him. He's terrified. Terrified but determined, just like me. But unlike me, he's not half-crazy with worry over a fallen brother. And crazy? Well, as Raph could testify, crazy can be a real motivator.

"So you're the mighty Blue," the man mutters.

I chuckle despite myself. "Looks like it, huh?"

He thrusts, and I parry. Instinctively he twists away, trying to avoid a counterattack, so I take advantage. I dive forward, wrapping my arms around his waist, and bring him crashing down onto the fire escape floor with a loud clatter. One of my swords gets knocked loose, and out of the corner of my eye I watch it fall to the pavement below. Meanwhile, the surprised ninja lets out a soft grunt as the air's knocked right out of his lungs.

It's terrible form, of course, a move from one of Casey's wrestling matches and definitely not something from any dojo. Sensei would be _appalled_, no doubt about it. But, I gotta admit, it's effective. Leaning forward, my knees pressed into his chest, I look into the man's masked face for just a moment. His eyes are no longer scared, just surprised. And I feel a twinge of sympathy for him as I draw my blade across his neck.

Then, standing back up, I briefly survey my handiwork. Satisfied, I leap down to the alleyway. I listen, holding my breath. Nothing. No one. Things are safe—for the moment. I sheathe the katana, flinching as the bloodied swords make a sickly-wet sucking sound while sliding down the hard leather of the sheathes. Returning to my hiding place, straight away I check on my brother. Still unconscious, but still breathing, with heartbeat still steady. I decide that it's now or never, that I've got to take the chance and get him the heck out of here.

My hands slip easily under his shell and, after a moment to brace myself, I lift him into my arms. My shoulder screams in reply, but I ignore it. Shut up, shoulder. My brother's head lolls against the crook of my neck, and I clench my jaw to fight back tears. Not now. I've got to keep it together … just a little while longer, at least until I can find Donny.

I step out into the alley, carefully keeping to the shadows. And that's when I feel it. Feel _her_. Sensing a presence, I peer up through the dark to find none other than Karai herself staring down at me from a nearby rooftop. She looks puzzled, unsure. Then slowly realization dawns. She only hesitates slightly, but it's enough to give me time to whirl around and bolt.

"Foot ninja! Attack!"

I've always been the fastest of my brothers, and I've never been more grateful for that than I am right now. Even though my shoulder feels like it's about to tear right off, even though I'm carrying about one-hundred eighty pounds of dead weight, I am _lightning_.

I'm not even thinking anymore. No time, no energy. I'm just blindly running through alleys and jumping over fences. It's all instinct now. And although I know a pack of ninjas are right behind me—I can sense them hot on my tail—all I can hear is the pounding of my own blood through my veins. That is, until I hear the most beautiful sound in the entire world.

"Donny! Watch where you're swingin' that stupid stick o' yours!"

The hothead.

"Trying to, Raph! But it's a bit hard when the bad guys are swarming like flies."

And the brain. Oh, man, brotherly bickering has never sounded so good.

Cradling my third brother even closer, I take off towards the voices. They're not far, fortunately—the one break I've gotten tonight. I spot them in a narrow alley keeping not-very-cordial company with about a dozen members of the Foot. My throat is raw, and it takes real determination for me to force air out of my throat, and Donny's name comes out as more of a sigh than a scream.

But it's Raph's head that whips around. "Jeez, it's about _time_ that you—" He breaks off when he sees me, his forehead creasing in confusion. Then he notices who I'm carrying. "Aw, shell."

Donny glances over and, after a double take that would be hilarious in any other context, pauses for a second to think. Then, nodding, he calls out, "Okay, guys, time to retreat."

I know things must be worse than I originally thought, because Raph doesn't even protest at leaving the fight. Words aren't necessary at this point. To be honest, they never really have been with the four of us. Don and I take off full-tilt down the alleyway, heading away from the Foot. Meanwhile Raph hangs behind, beating back our enemies, buying us time to get away and to get underground.

Once we find a manhole and reach the relative safety of the sewers, we slow down just a bit. Just enough for Don to play EMT. I hold our brother as steady as I can while Don briefly goes over his injuries. He asks a few questions—When? Where? How?—rapid, like machine-gun fire, and I answer just as quickly. Then we lapse into uneasy silence as we race towards the lair.

Finally it gets to me. Trying to keep my tone light, I ask, "So, what's the verdict?"

Donny sucks on his teeth thoughtfully. "I think he should pull through okay. But I'll feel a lot better once we get him back to the lair."

"You and me both, bro. You and me both."

It only takes about five minutes to get back home, but it feels like five years. Five eons. We explode through the door, a tangled mess of sweat and dirt and blood, and Splinter's there before we can even call out his name. He leads the way to the infirmary while giving the three of us a once-over out of the corner of his eyes.

"And Raphael?" he ventures, whiskers twitching.

"Bringing up the rear," I quickly explain.

Don nods his agreement. "Raph's fine, Sensei. We promise."

Though he looks unhappy about our response, Splinter doesn't inquire further.

We get our patient settled onto the nearest bed, and Don goes to work. While Splinter holds the hand of our unconscious brother, I stumble around the infirmary, getting the supplies Don needs. Bandages? Done. Needle? Got it. IV? Right here.

Then from outside the infirmary comes a loud clang and, a moment later, Raphael bursts in, all wild eyes and heavy panting. "Where is he?" he barks. "Is he okay?"

With fatherly concern, Master Splinter openly looks Raph up and down. Only after he sees that Raph is all right—just as Donny and I said—he asks, "Were you followed, Raphael?"

"No way, Sensei. I lost 'em up on the surface, and I made sure to take the long way home." Raph glances towards the bed where our brother lies. "Is he okay?" he repeats in an urgent tone. "I swear, if you guys are _hidin'_ something from me …"

"M'fine, Raph," a sleepy voice replies, and it takes me a moment to realize that the voice isn't Donny's and it isn't mine.

As Raph and Don rush the bed, I hang back, frozen in shock. He's awake. My brain can't quite comprehend. He's awake? Then, finally, it clicks: He's awake! Fuelled by a volatile mixture of fear and relief, I storm the bed while practically throwing Don and Raph out of my way. Hands trembling, I lean down and meet my brother's eyes, which are glazed but open.

He frowns up at me. "Mikey?"

I admit, I've never really liked hearing my name. Usually if someone is saying my name, it means I'm in trouble. But right now? I love my name. Love, love, _love_. "Yeah, Leo," I confirm softly, grinning. "It's me." 

"Mikey …" He blinks, slowly, groggily. "Why're you wearin' my mask?"

"Just borrowing a bit of your infamy, bro." I feel my grin widen. "Hope you don't mind."

His eyelids flutter shut. "Such a … weirdo," he mutters before slipping back under.

Worried, I immediately whip around towards Don, who's already back bed-side. "It's okay," Don murmurs in as reassuring a voice as he can muster. "It's just the painkillers I've given him."

I nod in relief. Then I collapse.

The adrenaline is finally gone, and that's all I've been running on for the last half hour. Donny catches me by the elbow while Raph, in one quick motion, grabs my wrist and slings my arm around his shoulders. I hear Splinter quietly tell them to take me out to the couch. Closing my eyes, I let my brothers help me to the main room.

Once I'm settled on our worn-out couch, Raph sits next to me. I can tell it's him because the weight beside me is too heavy for Don. A moment later this is confirmed when Raph's voice says, "So, why _are_ ya wearin' Leo's mask? Orange not your color anymore or something?"

From somewhere a bit farther away, Donny chuckles.

"Cute," I retort, still not opening my eyes. Because opening my eyes? Too much effort. Way too much effort. "Like I said, I was free-riding on Leo's rep as a badass." I pause, remembering. "Ya shoulda seen the look on this one guy's face. Totally terrified."

"Of _you_?" Raph snorts in disbelief.

"Nah." Laughing softly, I shake my head. "Of Leo."

Then I feel Raph's hands on the back of my head, fiddling with the knot in my mask—in Leo's mask. After it's undone, he pulls it away, leaving my bare face exposed. It feels nice. The mask was all sweaty and hot. As Raph wraps an arm around my shoulders, I let my head fall tiredly onto his shoulder. We sit like that for a long time, and eventually I hear Don's footsteps as he heads back to the infirmary.

Once he's gone, I feel the brush of breath against the top of my head as Raph mutters, "Ya did good, Mikey. Real good. Don't tell anyone I said so, but … I think you made a pretty decent Leo."

I smile drowsily. For a moment I debate whether I should thank him or threaten to tell Leo, whether to joke around or make a stab at sincerity. But before I can come to any conclusions, I feel sleep start creeping up on me and I give into it. After all, I've earned a little rest. Being Leo is _exhausting_.

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Author's Notes: I am Spartacus!

This story was originally conceived for Raph and Don, but I ended up liking Leo and Mike better for it. Kinda like that rum commercial that says we all have a little Captain in us … I think Raph, Mike, and Don all have a little Leo in them.


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